


to cry havoc

by alea_archivist (the_aleator)



Series: A Mere Appendix [12]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hiatus, Whump, no beta we die like men, secret meetings in churches, war is coming to London
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_aleator/pseuds/alea_archivist
Summary: Moriarty might be dead, but the war is just beginning.
Relationships: Lestrade & John Watson
Series: A Mere Appendix [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636375
Kudos: 4
Collections: Watson's Woes JWP Entries: 2013





	to cry havoc

“We are alone here?” Watson exclaims, as he paces the hard stone floor with the unease of a man lately watched.

“Yes,” Lestrade responded, “I’ve made sure of it.”   
  
Indeed, the enormous doors of the church are barred against entry, and the only sound to be heard is the sputtering of the candles burning down into their last wax in the alcove before the towering altar, where the pair of men stand, all but hidden in the immensity of the church. 

“Tell me, Lestrade.” Watson says urgently, with the hardness of fear for others in his voice. “Do you intend to go through with it? Going after Moran?” Lestrade looks at him sideways with those eyes, darker than the very night, and smiles with too sharp teeth.

“Doctor, I may have let bygones be bygones had the man stayed well away. But since he has made the first move, the law shall not rest, nor I with it.” Lestrade’s words ring and echo back from the columns, and beneath the shadow of the enormous crucifix, and the solemn gaze of Christ, his utterance sounds like an oath.

“But the question is,” he continues softly, “are you to be with us?”

Watson draws himself up at the question, for Holmes’ very life has been lost on this quest, and he should not falter now, but an inward part of him falters, for he has a wife now and child.

“Lestrade--” He mutters and breaks off, and are the carved stone angels above him scowling with approval? He hardens his nerve, and says,

“For Holmes’ sake alone, I would.” Something in Lestrade’s jaw relaxes, and he clasps the doctor’s hands in his slim ones. But his promise is not enough, for Lestrade has been by his side, ever since he has returned from Switzerland, with little to show for it but a few thrown barbs and the knowledge of too many disreputable taverns. Even more softly, scarce more than a prayer, Watson looks at Lestrade and says,

“But for yours also.”

If Lestrade is surprised, he does not show it, but for the squeeze of their hands between them to show that the regard is understood and returned. The silence holds for a few moments, then Lestrade sighs beside him and replies stiffly

“Our deaths shan’t be enough, for he shall go after our families, you know, Doctor. What little conscience he may have had has been burned away by the death of the Professor, and I suspect the thought of revenge is boiling his blood. Funny how it is that men make the very worst of devils.”

“I had thought the war to be over, when Holmes – died – and took Moriarty with him.” Watson admits. “Yet now I find that this was just the beginning.”

“For us, perhaps.” Lestrade’s voice is dull as they step away from the altar to flit out silently into the night. “For them it was the end. But Mr. Holmes was never much concerned with the afters of a case, was he? We at the Yard always dealt with that.”

“Indeed.” Watson agrees, and finds his eyes brighten with the anticipation of it, for he has been a soldier, and will be a soldier till he dies. The pact that has been made between them is as much a promise of battle as it is an agreement, and Watson’s anger burns as hot as pitch and long as time.

“We cannot be too careful now.” Lestrade warns as they reach the small side entrance. “For we’ve no Mr. Holmes to fall back on, and Moran may be a gentleman, but he shall fight like an enraged animal.

Watson turns to Lestrade as they step out into the light, and his words, as he says them, are dark and heavy.

“What man dare, I dare.”  
  
And the church bells were ringing the last hour of the day. 

**Author's Note:**

> JWP #22 - the Bard challenge. Title derived from Julius Caesar & the last line Watson says is from Macbeth. Note - unbetaed and unedited


End file.
